Read Online Obscura Burning by Suzanne van Rooyen - Free Book Online Page B

Obscura will cause an extinction level event on Earth. We cross now to Professor Langley at the California Institute of Technology…”
    The picture shudders, dissolving into snowy static, and I’m sucked backward.
    My fork clatters to the floor, splattering my sneakers with strawberry jam.
    “You’re in your own world today,” Mom says, stirring her coffee.
    Wet hair on the back of my neck, and clean clothes. I’m also more than halfway through a plate of pancakes and don’t remember any of it. Dad eyes me over the top of the newspaper, but says nothing.
    I retrieve my fork and mop up the mess with my napkin. My hands are shaking. It’s Sunday again.
    “Mom, would you take me out to Garry’s today?”
    “Again, why?” Mom gives Dad a worried look. Again?
    “Off to see that Indian girl?” Dad asks, also still in church clothes. At least they’re doing something together, unlike those otherworld parents who have avoidance down to an art.
    “She’s only halfNavajo, and why does that matter?” Why did Mom say again ? I’m starting to feel a little cheated by this world hopping.
    Dad harrumphs and returns to his newspaper.
    “Why do you need to go to Garry’s, Kyle?”
    “To buy a sombrero for the dance.”
    Mom and Dad both give me strange looks. Mom smiles, but it’s tight and uncomfortable on her face.
    “We went yesterday, sweetheart.”
    “What?” I don’t remember. I really am losing it.
    “Listen, Kyle, I don’t want you running around with that girl anymore,” Dad says from behind the paper.
    “Running around?”
    “We’re concerned she might be a bad influence.” Mom lays her hand on my arm.
    I pull away. “A bad influence? Are you serious?”
    “We know you were drinking that night.” Dad crumples the paper.
    “Yeah, and I’m the one who chose to drink a whole bottle of tequila. Shira didn’t force it down my throat.”
    “Kyle, please. We’re just looking out for you.” Mom tries to take my hand, but I pull away.
    “Your mother and I think it’s time you moved on, made some new friends. Have you even thought about what you’re going to do about your diploma?”
    “Moved on?” Anger and hurt are all tangled up, forming one giant knot in my belly. My heart’s jackhammering. I’m shifting between realities, between two dead friends, and my dad’s concerned about whether I’ll graduate from high school?
    “We just think it might be best for you to consider having new people in your life.”
    “Daniel was your friend. We know that. But after the memorial, we’re hoping you’ll find some closure and move on with your life. That’s all.” Dad slurps his coffee.
    “Who’s this new girl you’re taking to the dance then?” Mom asks, fidgeting with her napkin.
    Closure. The word reverberates in my head. Only way I’ll get that is when I can remember what happened that night. Maybe it wasn’t even me who started the fire.
    “Danny was more than just a friend, Dad. And Shira’s the sweetest, kindest girl I’ve ever met. Just because her mother’s an alcoholic doesn’t mean she deserves to be judged. What do you think people say about me then?”
    “You watch your mouth, young man.” Dad points a finger at me, his cheeks bulging. I’m goading him, and I don’t care. Above Dad’s head, Jesus glares at me with judgmental eyes from his hunk of wood. Repent, sinner.
    “Kyle, we never said—”
    “No, you don’t even know them. You never liked Daniel and you’ve never really met Shira. You have no idea what my life is like, and now you tell me I should move on?” My voice rises in pitch and volume.
    “You want the truth? No, we never liked Daniel and his wetback parents—”
    “They’re Nicaraguan, for Christ’s sake.”
    “Language, Kyle.” Mom corrects me, but not Dad.
    Dad doesn’t even hear me, just continues. “We knew he’d be a corrupting influence. His father—”
    “Michael, please.” My mom’s words are met with a glare.
    “No, Beth,